My midlife crisis made me want to live simply. Unfortunately, there isn't much simple about it most days.

Author: walkercynthia

It’s not like the boss ever uses any of these signs once they’re torn down. Also? I found it in a pile out back, where it has resided for so long that I never even knew we had it.

I know I want to use this sign somewhere in my little house. It just made my heart sing for some strange reason. I just can’t figure out HOW I want to use it.

Do I want to hang it on a wall as “an art”? Do I want to make it into a shelf in my closet? Do I want to make it (in its entirety) a part of a reclaimed wood wall in my bathroom? Or does it become part of the reclaimed wood face of the kitchen peninsula? Does it become a bench seat in my closet. Or do I do something else with it that I haven’t thought up yet?

Earlier this week, Rude Ass supervised me while I finished the wood wall in the living room. He taught me to use his compound miter saw so I could make my own cuts. He did make the one tricky cut around the electrical outlet, but beyond that he just stood back and watched.

I think I did a pretty good job of it, if I do say so myself.

I really like some of the oddball touches I put in there.

Since Rude Ass left me unsupervised with all his power tools, I put them to use on Sunshine’s mom’s stool.

I used the table saw to cut a piece of plywood for the bottom of the seat since the old one was pretty much rotted. Then I used some of the dropoffs from the cut reclaimed wood, and I made a stool for Sunshine’s side of the closet.

I’ll be hunting down a nice cushion to make sure it’s comfy for him.

I enjoyed unfettered access to Rude Ass’s power tools while it lasted. Mostly, I think everybody out here is horrified at the thought of me running a table saw so it probably won’t happen often. Then again, when they see what I did, all by myself; when they hear how quickly I did it; when they realize I didn’t hurt myself or fuck anything up–maybe they’ll let me use the power tools more often.

This past week, while I was digging through all the shit in the barn, trying to get my table out, I came across these candlesticks that used to belong to Sunshine’s mom.

They are really cool looking, and I love the green patina some of the copper has.

The tops are in rough shape, but I pretty sure they can be repaired or replaced.

I’m debating whether to restore them to original condition, refinish them with some paint or something, or simply clean them up and put a clear coat on them. I guess I’ll let Sunshine make the decision. I’m too tired to decide all the things.

Since Sunshine couldn’t be bothered to get the table out of the barn for me, I did it myself.

One of the legs had rotted away at the bottom, so the table was all wobbly.

I’m going to refinish this table to put in the corner of the closet so I have a place to sit while I’m putting on shoes. It will also give me a bit of extra storage for small, infrequently used things. Like socks.

I think I’ll be using the top of the upper level to display some of my expensive shoes. Because they do make my heart sing, so they should be appreciated even when I’m not wearing them.

Some time ago, when I helped my neighbor out with that estate sale for that property she inherited, I was given this table (as part of my “thank you”, I guess). I stuck it in the barn until such time as we had a house to put it in.

This past weekend, I asked Sunshine if he & Biff could go get this table out of the barn so I could get started refinishing it. It was buried under heaps of stuffs and things, and I didn’t really want to deal with all that heavy lifting by myself.

Did he get the table out?

Fuck no.

Part of me wants to tell him “that’s OK, asshole. I don’t need your fucking help anyway”. A bigger part of me knows that my body only has so much to give me, and things like moving giant piles of furniture and equipment are taking time off the end of my life.

I don’t know what it’s going to take to get him to actually HEAR me when I ask for help doing something; but if the maggot-filled storm shelter wasn’t enough to do the trick, I don’t know what is.

In a way, I guess I’m to blame just as much as he is. I’ve not asked him for help much in our 10+ years together. I find it’s often easier to just do shit myself than deal with waiting for him to do it (or listening to him bitch about how he could be hunting if I’d stop asking him to do stuffs). When I ask him for help these days, it’s because I actually need it because whatever task I’m asking for help with is beyond my capabilities or detrimental to my health. And I get ignored, like he doesn’t even hear that there are words coming out of my mouth.

I smell an epic meltdown coming on, which is generally the only time he hears me. It’s a shame that that’s what it takes; meltdowns always leave me drained for days afterward. I don’t know what the answer is, but he’s got to start listening to me when I ask for help.

I’ve been mentioning to Sunshine, for some weeks now, that we need to smoosh the giant pile of aluminum cans we’ve been saving up.

Did the cans get smooshed?

Fuck no.

He waited until the problem was so big he almost flipped the 4 wheeler over trying to drive over that gargantuan bag of cans. He had to break out his Jeep to try and drive over them. He had to put the jeep in 4WD to do it.

When the cans started spilling out, Biff made him stop and just dumped the bag. Sunshine then got to do donuts in the yard crushing cans for half an hour.

It took us another half hour to round them all up and get them in bags.

Why does he wait until things reach epic crisis proportions before he does anything about them?

He’s using cinder blocks for the chimney since we’ll be covering it with limestone once it’s finished.

Of course, Biff helped.

Sunshine will be working on this project as he has spare time between paying jobs. We’re hoping to get the house air and water tight soon, so that he can slow down a bit and save some wear & tear on his back.